Scrolling through WhatsApp and Facebook threads, you realise they have become the modern day version of our diaries. Diaries were once secretive things, handwritten in leather bound books. These days we wear our hearts in our phones, in messages to friends, along with images and emojis to hammer home our current state of mind.

It was scrolling through a Facebook thread with my sister-in-law that I spotted a photo of a row of my knickers, perfectly folded into teeny- tiny oblong shapes in a plastic container. The message to my sister in law was jubilant, proud and full of exclamation marks - look at my knickers! Don’t they look great!

My sister in law had politely responded with encouraging comments: “Wow! Impressive! You won’t want to disturb them!” Bless her.

I vividly remember folding those knickers, with such precision, such care….and it all came flooding back.

That was when I simply did not know what to do with my hands or my time.

That was when folding my knickers was a lengthy, thorough and immensely satisfying job giving me a much-needed sense of calm when rough seas danced in my head.

That was when I had broken up with my boyfriend.

The Facebook messages to my sister-in-law (Image: Harriet Noble)

Some people get a new haircut, take to the bottle- we all have different ways of dealing with a break up. I went the self-help book route, via Marie Kondo’s book The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up.

I know I can’t have been the only person to do this. The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up was number 1 on the New York Times Bestseller List, becoming a mass cultural phenomenon, helping people to declutter, throw away and fold.

Were they all people enduring heartache I wonder? Were they all so out of their minds with sadness that folding, (folding for God’s sake!) seemed to provide some answers.

Looking back on this time, I remember long stretches of evenings where doing my laundry and folding those knickers (I watched the videos on YouTube as well to make sure I was doing it absolutely right) gave me such a sense of order. I read the book, started hugging my clothes to see if they gave me joy, and recommended the book to everyone.

I didn’t obey all the rules of the self-help book though. You are supposed to throw away items you do not need, that serve you no purpose or items that simply did not bring you joy. I could not, and cannot, bring myself to throw away the wooden heart-shaped coaster that said boyfriend carved for me in his dad’s garage.

Folding aside, I did some other things for myself that just felt really good. I fell in love with yoga, went swimming in the sea a lot and stomped with conviction along the sea front every day, come rain or shine.

Daily stomping along Salthill promenade (Image: Harriet Noble)

Make no mistake, I also did some pretty unhealthy things too – I ate a lot. In particular, I became addicted to Shepherd’s pie. The comfort of that dish, the softness of creamy mash potato stills feels like a big, velvety, hug in my mouth. I also drank quite a bit of wine and watched a lot of TV and generally wished things had turned out differently.

I also had moments of laughter. You know those moments in TV dramas when a character picks up a piece of clothing that belongs to a person that has died? I did that! The character usually sniffs the piece of clothing, absorbing that person’s smell, and then dissolves into hysterical crying and wailing. It’s the standard TV portrayal of grief.

I can remember finding an old jumper of his, a Nordic style jumper. I hugged the jumper, like I was a character in EastEnders, my tears soaking into the heavy knit. Suddenly realising my ridiculous Oscar-worthy melodrama, I laughed. And laughed.

Somewhere along the line, and in a new job and in a new city I stopped folding my knickers, eating shepherd’s pie every night and sniffing jumpers.

In many ways this is a shame. My underwear drawer is now a complete mess. I however am not.

Do you have a funny/ interesting story about how you got over your ex? I'd love to hear it! Do get in touch & email me at harriet.noble@localworld.co.uk